The Wrong Alice

 

I set up a new blogsite and decided to bring this one a little more in sync with that one, so if you decide to read this and you already read the other I'll try to make this one a little different for you. And now you already know, I'm not 'that' Alice.

The Alice to whom I refer is the one who visits Wonderland on a regular basis. I admire Alice for her bravery in slaying her Jabberwocky, among other admirable qualities. She gave the Bandersnatch back his eye thereby retrieving the Vorpal sword; she helped rescue the Mad Hatter from the Red Queen, and she was always brave enough to take chances with stuff marked 'eat me' and 'drink me.' I suppose when I was younger I was brave enough to take chances with ingesting eatables and drinkables having absolutely no knowledge of what they contained. Lord! I suppose that behavior would be better categorized as stupidity than bravery. But, we did it, nonetheless. I'm still here so I guess I'm stupid and lucky. But what I'd like to achieve before I depart this mortal coil is Alice's bravery.

Having reached retirement age in America, I'm amazed to be just now learning so much about life that I never understood before. I have other people to thank for that information. Friends and relatives have always tried to give me good advice, but it seems as though the pathways from my ears and eyes to my brain were blocked. So I've had other people to thank for good information for years now; it's not their fault that the pathways have been covered with brambles, trash, dead wood and ghosts--not that the paths are completely clear yet. But I have been brave enough to sweep away enough of the debris to allow some of the information to filter through.

So, I'm working on becoming The Right Alice. My friend Boris tells me I should live 'the pink life.' I knew what he meant even before he explained it, but when I Googled 'the pink life' I found nothing to match what he meant. I guess the pink life can be many things to many people. To some it means they love the color pink and surround themselves with it; to some it means surviving breast cancer, and to some it means running marathons for health reasons. What it means in Boris' part of the world is being happy and free. Maybe sort of like looking at the world through rose-colored glasses, as they say. And I can do that--why not? What is the alternative, really? I think the pink life also includes tea parties with the Hare, the Hatter and especially the Cheshire Cat. I can handle that.

I've also realized I have to identify the Jabberwocky and with that comes the realization life is full of Jabberwockys. Sigh. Usually we only have to fight one at a time; sometimes they come in pairs and sometimes they'll actually tell you they'll let you take a nap and come back to annoy you later. As I said in my other blog, I'm better at putting the Jabberwocky to sleep than I am at slaying him.